Affectionate Echoes
by Ordo.Josh
Summary: Just a little practice. First "story." I don't really think I'll be finishing this though u v u" But yeah.! Have funnnn.


Everybody deserves love, no? As a naive young man, I often repeat this question in my mind. Love is inherently found and deserved, no? There are obviously multiple forms of love and affection that is unconditional. But what happens when love becomes merely a reward or an incentive. What happens when it is no longer a right we humans have?

I loved her with a fervor matched only by the heat of a tempered flame. She had loved me in a manner nearly, if not exactly, identical. Our time together was spent well and enjoyable. We never took part in sordid activities. She reminds me of snow. She was calm, collected, and a bit cold. She was also very pure. Her heart and mind were often filled with the sweetest intentions. It was almost as if no vulgar thoughts had ever come across her mind. Her tapered facial features were draped by her immaculate hazel locks. Her smiles, though ephemeral, were graces from the Heavens that shone down on this bleak world of mine. Her lips, her wondrously supple lips were inviting to the touch. The way she purses her lips and the way she leans in would send shocks throughout my entire being. And when hers met mine; there was no conceivable way to describe my content. She was my perfection. She was all I would ever need. But then I had reached an epiphany; is this perfection mutual? Am I her only one? Am I all she will ever need? Was I perfect for her? It would be impossible to find out. How does one go about asking their significant other if they're sufficient for them, when they will obviously confirm it in attempts to keep the ever so fragile ego intact? Is there any way of truly finding out whether one is all another will need?

Months would continue to pass, as we had spent more and more time together. It was bliss. At least it was on my end. I could only imagine if I'm truly providing her with the same experience she is for me? I would attempt to ask numerous times but I'd not the courage to push the words past the lump in my throat. So I left it as is; up in the air. Months turned into years that seemed to have flown by before my very eyes. Time always seems to pass by faster when sharing one's life. It was inevitable. Throughout the years and through out the trials; to my surprise, we've managed to hold firm. Love was mutual between us and the worries of being a sufficient significant other would fade fast. Taking in the factors of our relationship, I truly never thought that it would have lasted as long as it did. But I didn't care anymore. I was content, and could only hope she was as well. We found ourselves often telling each other those three words typical among young people in love. It was said rather often; nearly everyday. "I Love You." Often times it would become a game of one-upmanship, and would go on for hours. "I Love You more." Oh, the hours we would waste playing that frivolous game. I would often find myself losing due to sheer exhaustion or simply incapable of continuing. Further along the line I found myself winning our ridiculous game. Bizarre. I shrugged it off and merely thought nothing of it.

Little did I know that marked the moment we hit our apex. Distance. We had found ourselves busier as adulthood sunk its inevitable fangs into us. We'd barely any time to see one another, let alone continually remind the other that we still hold a flame of passion for them. In the short amounts of time that we were able to spend with each other, we rarely spoke. It's as if everything had come to a screeching halt. All I was able to do was lie in wait and hope the whiplash comes quickly to take my life. Every meeting of ours would dwindle in regards to length. We've been through worse, no? We've weathered ferocious storms that would normally separate others. I was never one to say our relationship would have lasted until eternity, however, part of me always hoped that it did. The fact that we didn't talk had started to take it's toll, and having been left to my own thoughts would do anything but remedy the situation.

This phenomenon had continued for weeks. I would attempt to make contact, but all for naught. I never realized the true pangs of depression when I awoke to find myself home alone; parents at work whilst my sisters spent the day around the town to relax. I was used to being alone. But after a long period of time, I was reacquainted with agonizing loneliness. The day was spent, or rather wasted, trying to contact my other half. I realized a trend occurring. Every response I was able to solicit from her would often occur in the last hours of the day. I had prior knowledge of her busy schedule, and her hectic life. But this seemed out of place. Time was now compensating. The days slowly swung by, as opposed to how quickly they would zip by when we were in our early bliss. My mental health is starting to deteriorate. I find myself sleeping for more than half the day. I end up snapping at family members with no instigation. My idea of my own image began to decline. "You will never be enough. You never were enough. Why are you trying? Don't keep hurting yourself. It's not your fault. Except for the fact that you're insufficiency, you're flaws, you're everything, is nowhere near up to par." My mind would go on for hour long bouts with my heart. I started losing my memory from that point on. What was there to remember? My now horrid attitude and spending hours cursing the pains of growing up?

We were able to find a few days to spend together. It didn't matter how fleeting those days were, they held me together. Seeing her visage and her immaculacy was enough to encourage my survival. However, within the last meeting we had, I had finally cracked.

It was a regular day. She had been busy all day. Work. School. Family. I couldn't have possibly helped in any way. I was practically useless. I had dropped her off from work. The day was about to turn. 9pm in the evening. When I reached her house, I had parked my car and turned to her in the passenger seat. As I did so I had asked, almost begged, "Do you think we could spend some time together?"

She turned. Held both of her hands out, palms facing towards me as she spoke. "Don't ask me to spend time with you for the next month. Okay? It's annoying and you've been bugging me. I don't have time for you." I froze; respecting that she was direct, though breaking on the inside upon hearing her words. I could only reply with a simple yes, and then proceed to bid farewell the way we normally would. "I Love You." "I Love You, too," She said softly. That was it. That was my breaking point. I would have normally shrugged it off, but she had said those four words, without even looking at me. I drove home as quickly as I could. I was grinding my teeth, fighting back tears as I got to the door. I prayed, begged, hoped that someone was inside so they could see the anguish on my face; just so I can let go of these emotions. I threw the door open, hoping my prayers had been answered. I was met with a dimly lit apartment, and a note on the kitchen table. "We'll be working overtime tonight, son. We'll be back in the morning. Your sisters are spending the night at Irvine. They'll be home around the time we will be. Take care. Love you, Mom." Tears had begun to rush down my cheeks as I could hear them hit the linoleum floor in the silent apartment. I clenched my fists as I continued to grind my teeth. Inhaling sharply as I shakily exhale, attempting to collect myself. I read the note over and over. Specifically the last line. My mother's love was unconditional. I looked at my relationship and realized it was nothing like that. I walked to my room and shut the door, my breath thinning. What's the point of telling someone you love them? Is it even important to hear it? Why would someone say it...if only to hear it's echo? Was there purpose to it? I didn't know. I realized that the only reason I would tell my beloved that I love her, was to hopefully hear it from her. Unfortunately that was the only time I heard it. As an echo. I had dropped to my knees in front of my bed. I threw my head back as my mouth shot open to let out a scream. The only thing escaping my lips was a soft rasp as I found myself unable to make a sound. I began trembling as I placed my elbows on my bed, cradling my face in the palms of my hands. My breathing would quicken as I started gasping for air, hiccuping starting to become apparent in my wailing. My hands dropped as my face plunged into the sheets, my tears dousing them. I would grip the sheets and pull my body up onto the bed, biting my lip in hopes to stifle any sounds of crying.


End file.
